


Tranquility

by dragonsofarlathan



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Rite of Tranquility, Tranquil Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8018380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonsofarlathan/pseuds/dragonsofarlathan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Anders raised his hand and gently caressed Hawke’s cheek. He tried to hold back the tears filling in his eyes, even if the other man no longer cared. How could everything have gone so wrong in such little time?"<br/>The unexpected happens when Anders visits the Chantry. One shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tranquility

**Tranquility**  

Anders was not sure why Hawke asked him to the Chantry. He of all people knew Anders’s hatred of the place and the bad memories he had experienced within its walls. Being such, Hawke inviting Anders here only made his curiosity grow more.

He had not seen Hawke all day. Though not unusual with the tensions heating up in Kirkwall, the two mages tried to check in with each other as often as they could. If Hawke wanted to meet with Anders somewhere, he would have told him that morning or later on in the day... in person. Instead, Hawke sent a messenger. Anders did find comfort in the fact that Hawke used their secret code, “flaming knickers," in the note.

The Chantry was eerily quiet. Anders knew that all the Chantry fellows were asleep or elsewhere, but he could not help but feel there was something odd in the air. He tried to shake the feeling off. He was just being paranoid, a specialty of his.

As he climbed the stairs and rounded the corner, he could see the outline of a man's figure sitting on a stool. Though he was turned away and only a few of the candles in the room were lit, Anders easily recognized that the outline belonged to Hawke.

…But something was not right. Anders had spent the last few years memorizing everything about Hawke. The way Hawke’s face lit up whenever he told a joke; the man’s quirks, including how he used humor as a way to deflect from the seriousness of something; the marks on his skin, from combat scars to laugh lines; the difference in his voice when he was being serious and joking–Anders knew it all.

If it was Hawke–and he did not know anyone who would be up so late in the Chantry–then he was… wrong. His posture, usually laid back and slouched, was now perfect: sitting straight up, hands at the sides, and head tilted up. Even Hawke’s hair, which Anders could only see the outline of, was not its usual messy self, wild and all over the place. It barely stuck up from his head, and Anders could tell it was combed through, something he could never get his lover to do.

Anders hesitated. “Hawke…” he said unsurely.

Instead of Hawke jumping in surprise at the sudden noise, he simply stood up. “Anders, I knew you would come here,” the man said in a cold and emotionless tone. “No matter how unreasonable, you always do as I ask.”

Anders knew he would regret it, but he asked anyway. “Hawke… what’s wrong? Why are you –?”

Hawke turned around to face Anders, and everything made sense. On the center of Hawke’s forehead laid the symbol of Chantry, the Mark that everything a person once was or will ever be was stripped away in a moment’s notice. The Mark that told the world that this person was now merely an empty husk still moving and breathing, but not really living. Hawke now bore the Mark from the Rite of Tranquility.

Anders’s throat closed up and it was increasingly harder for him to stand on two feet. Hawke, the love of his life, was ripped away from him, and he could do nothing. His love was gone, and Anders had done nothing to save him. Maker, Anders spent all his time worrying about the Chantry swooping in and finding them, yet he could remember only taking a few precautions to ensure Hawke’s safety. With him being the Champion of Kirkwall, Anders must have just assumed that Meredith… Why had he not done more?

“I was too rebellious and caused too many problems in Kirkwall. This was the only way,” Hawke said, but Anders was finding it difficult to focus. “The templars knew the only solution was to make an example of me.”

Hawke was gone. No amount of blaming himself or Meredith (he would still do plenty of both) would change that. He had seen far too many times over the years what the Rite did to mages, and every time the story ended in the exact same way: no magic, no emotions, and no cure. The only thing that the Tranquil still retained was their free will, and it was useless if they never _wanted_ to do anything. _His_ Hawke was gone…

“No…!” Anders cried, and his knees gave in. He fell to the ground with little noise.

Hawke did not pay any attention to him. “The other mages will be too intimidated to further challenge the templars. You will understand, Anders, as soon as the templars teach you to control yourself.”

Though he could not see them, Anders could hear the thudding of the templar’s boots as they hit the stone not too far away. On a normal day, Anders would have been willing to fight his way out… but he could no longer see the point.

Anders slowly got to his feet, and carefully walked towards Hawke. He pleaded for Justice to come out so that he could talk to Hawke again, _his_ Hawke, but the spirit was surprisingly silent. The one time he really needed him, and his friend was not there. With the way his day had taken a turn, he was not especially surprised at this point. More than anything, Anders was just numb.

Anders raised his hand and gently caressed Hawke’s cheek. He tried to hold back the tears filling in his eyes, even if the other man no longer cared. How could everything have gone so wrong in such little time?

The templars were close. Anders saw no way out, and he was not going to let them take Hawke again. Slowly, Anders took the knife out of his pocket. With great dread, he raised it up to his lover’s throat. Hawke did not move or even flinch. He just stood there, as if he already knew this was the most likely outcome of their meeting.

Anders pushed the thought away. He wished Hawke had the capacity to hate him, to tell Anders off for being such an idiot and help him fight their way out of there. But alas, all the man did was stare at Anders in empty silence.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” Anders said, no longer making an attempt to hide his sorrow. “But I see no other way.”

“There is no need to –” the former champion began but was cut off by Anders dragging his knife across the man’s throat. Hawke unceremoniously fell to the ground. Anders turned away before placing the knife over his own heart.

He would not let the templars kill them. The bastards already took _his_ Hawke, and he was not going to give the dunderheads the satisfaction of slaughtering two mages in one day.

He shoved the knife towards his chest and–

 

//\\\//\\\

 

Anders woke with a start. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he was drenched in sweat. Anders looked over at the snoring man next to him in bed and let out a sigh of relief. It was all just a dream, or rather, a nightmare…

It was just a nightmare this time, but what about the next? Can he be sure that the champion of Kirkwall was one hundred percent safe, without a shadow of a doubt? Anders was not willing to risk Hawke’s safety again, in reality or in his sleep. He would drown them both in blood before he let anything like what happened in his dream happen again. He just needed to find a way…

“Anders?” Hawke mumbled dreamily as he turned over to face the other mage. “Are you alright? You’re sweating gallons.”

Anders shook his head and paused. “… I’m fine, Hawke. Just a bad dream.”

Hawke wrapped his arms around Anders and drew him closer. Anders snuggled up against Hawke’s chest and put his head in the crook of the other man’s neck. He took a deep breath and smelt lavender, Hawke’s favorite scent.

“Well, no need to worry about that anymore. I, Garrett Hawke, am a master at dispelling bad dreams of any sort. As long as you stay clutching my manly bosom, you will have nothing to fear, my love.”

Anders chuckled lightly, momentarily forgetting his dream. “That’s all I have to do, then? Sounds easy enough.”

Hawke smiled toothily and buried his nose into Anders’s hair. “Sure, it’s easy now, but just wait until the snoring starts. It’s absolutely dreadful.”

“Well, considering I’ve been sleeping in the same bed as you for three years now, the snoring should not be too much of a problem for me.”

“All right, tough guy. We’ll see in the morning,” Hawke said with a wink. Then Hawke, who was notorious for thinking himself funny even when no one else did, burst into laughter. Anders soon joined in: Hawke’s laugh was contagious, even if his jokes were terrible.

The two mages slowly settled down, still in each other’s arms. Hawke was asleep within minutes, snoring so loud he could shake mountains, leaving Anders to think on his own. The dream soon came back to him and left no room for more pleasant thoughts in his mind…

How could Anders stand by and allow someone as wonderful as Hawke be erased, just like that? Someone who helped others and brought joy with him everywhere he went? How could he let such a thing happen while there were still corrupt and wicked people roaming the world, snuffing out the light of others instead of brightening it?

It would be impossible to predict when the ongoing battle between the mages and the templars would reach its breaking point, but Anders was sure it would come. With the templars’ tyrannical behavior and the mages finally beginning to find their voice and speak out against the injustices, something was bound to happen.

But when? Twenty years from now, when half of the mages had been killed or made Tranquil? Thirty, when there were practically no mages left? Anders knew something had to happen soon, for all their sakes.

He just needed to give them a little push, but what would be sufficient? He wanted to avoid needless slaughter if he could, but it is never really a war without the death of innocents. And mages – young, capable mages who had never done anything wrong but existed – were murdered by templar hands for pointless reasons every day. Why were their lives beneath those of the other citizens of Thedas? Did they not deserve a chance to be happy and free and _a_ _live_?

Anders would not sit by and watch his people be slaughtered any longer. Good people, people like Hawke, did not deserve to be treated as if their existence was a mistake of the Maker and the people of Thedas were only letting them live out of the kindness of their hearts. People like Hawke used their Maker-given gifts to help those in need, but as soon as it was discovered they were a mage, the people casted them off like trash, forgetting all they had done for them. Anders was done sitting on the sidelines watching amazing people like Hawke be slaughtered and viewed as nothing more than a blemish in the family tree.

He did not know what he was going to do, but Anders knew it was going to be big. Something to turn a few heads and make the people realize that this mistreatment of mages would not be suffered any longer. There would be no compromise, only freedom.

He would do it for Hawke, for himself, and for the rest of their kind.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic ever, so if you see any mistakes, please tell me in the comments XD  
> I have played all three Dragon Age games multiple times, and I recently came up with this idea. Anders shows throughout the game that he is very fond of Hawke, and if you romance him, he makes no effort to hide the fact that he'd do anything to protect you. So what if a little bit before Act III he has a dream where something unfortunate happens (like being made tranquil) to a mage Hawke, and it is one of the reasons/the main reason that he ultimately decides to blow up the Chantry? This theory could work with a romanced or unromanced mage Hawke, but not a warrior or rogue.


End file.
